


Just What It Does

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Grief, M/M, Mourning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Prompt: "overgrown"





	Just What It Does

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Death mention. The entire ficlet is about Derek and how he mourns his family. Nothing is explicitly described in regard to death, but it is spoken about.

“Why didn’t you tend to it?”

The vines and flowers and moss are lush over the unmarked graves of the Hale family plot. When Stiles caught Derek visiting the spot, figured out what exactly it was and what it probably meant to Derek, he was struck into silence. He didn’t know what to say. He looked at all the overgrown plant life and the question just popped out of his mouth.

“Didn’t seem like my place to disturb the natural order of things.”

With his hands tucked nervously in the pocket of his hoody, Stiles looks up and to the side to view Derek’s profile. Derek is acknowledging him, silently - he’s not aggressively or actively trying to get rid of Stiles, but the air is tense and Stiles gets the feeling he should probably leave Derek in peace. That’s what anyone else would advise him to do. Leaving Derek alone with his thoughts seems like a bad idea, though.

So many people have left Derek already. Stiles doesn’t really want to be counted among them.

So, he stays.

“What about you? When you die - would you prefer no one tend to it? Is it just… a preference?”

Derek doesn’t look at Stiles, but his brow pinches thoughtfully. He replies in all seriousness, “my relationship to the moon and the Earth is different than yours, Stiles. It’s inherently different. I can’t really explain it to you - it’s not a _preference_.”

Stiles is worried he’s offended Derek, but Derek’s sigh speaks much more to a frustration with himself than with Stiles. Stiles waits for him, waits for Derek to gather himself - to decide whether or not he’ll share himself.

Derek seems to struggle for words, then adds on, “the moon rises when the sun sets and even if I had the power to change that, I wouldn’t. Weather washes away just about every memory humans make - time and weather, sort of sweep it all away and I couldn’t and wouldn’t change that either. The Earth spins, the sun sets, rises, people are born, they live, they die, they rejoin the Earth, get wrapped in flowers and vines - we dig holes, the Earth refills them with rain and dirt and time and weather and… that’s just what it _does.”_

Derek’s gaze seems unfocused as he watches over the purple hues sprouting from the ground. He continues softly, “my mother is in those flowers because she’s part of the soil that they bloom from. It’s part of the cycle. It’s part of nature. I don’t want to cut it away or trim it - I can’t. It’s not natural. She’s a part of it all - the sun and the moon and the Earth and flowers and the weather and time… all of them are. They’re not overgrown, they’re just… continuing the way they’re meant to.”

Instinctively, Stiles reaches for Derek’s hand and when he expects to have his show of emotional availability thrown aside, he’s surprised to find Derek twining their fingers instead. He still won’t look at Stiles, but Stiles figures that’s okay. Derek is probably feeling raw and exposed and Stiles gets it. He doesn’t want to push Derek to do or say anything he doesn’t want to. It feels like a gift to see this tenderness in Derek - like he’s already seen too much, but he’d still like to see more. He’d like to be more for Derek. He’s not sure when that happened, but it’s never seemed more apparent than now.

The graves and flowers might be overgrown, but _everything_ about the Hales and Derek seem overgrown, when Stiles thinks about it. The Hales were an enormous family with power that went untrimmed, with wisdom and spirit that hardly fit in their physical bodies. Derek’s still that way - brimming with power and wisdom and spirit and other beauties too that he can’t contain.

Derek’s threshold for pain is overgrown, Derek’s battered heart is untended to and it grows ever larger even as it shuts itself away. Derek’s lashes seem overgrown too - long and dark and thick, his muscles, his innate mysticism, his five o’clock shadow. His book collection is overgrown, his hopes and ability to trust, his want for love - it’s all overgrown.

Even when Derek’s words are brief, even when Derek’s patience is cut short, even when Derek’s fingers only ghost over Stiles’ now, unsure of how welcome the contact is or doubtful about how long it will stay - even when he seems subdued, Derek Hale is a study in enormity.

Stiles doesn’t know how to say all of that, though, so he just steps closer to Derek, leans his weight onto Derek’s side, keeping their hands clasped. He lets his head loll onto Derek’s shoulder as he stares down at the unmarked graves, the flowers, the continuation of the weather and sun and moon and Hales.

“You’re right,” Stiles decides, “It’s perfect the way it is.”

_So are you_ , goes entirely unspoken, but Derek seems to hear it anyway. His hand grips onto Stiles’ more tightly and Stiles smiles sweetly at the ground.


End file.
